It's Not About Me Anymore And Here's Why

At some point you have to realize it’s not about you, it’s about the people you know, or knew. It only took me five decades to figure this out. Hopefully you are smarter and quicker.

And the only reason I’m telling you this is that I have to. And I hope that in 15 minutes you will tell someone, too.

For all of my life, I thought it was all about me. But, let’s recap.

My dad is in the Texas Bandmasters Hall of Fame. My brother was a stud athlete who was recruited by none other than, hmm…maybe you remember him…Roger Staubach. My wife was a state track champion. My sister and her husband tolerated me when they shouldn’t have.

My high school golf buddy Scott Roberson still tells me when I'm a moron (I'm expecting another message soon.) My best high school friend drove from Texas to Arizona and sat by my bed when I almost died. And then when he had medical problems I actually texted him. He drove and I texted. How selfish is that?

And did I mention that my wife tolerated me when she shouldn’t have.

I can walk into the Lubbock Avalanche-Journal’s newsroom and Terry, your editor, will, out of some sort of misguided sympathy, go out of his way to shake my hand and say “hello.”

Your entertainment editor, William Kerns, once allowed me to watch dozens of movies for free and still thinks I’m funny. I swear this is true. Only minutes ago he posted on facebook that I'm funny.

Joe Gulick, your education editor, knows I’m not funny but last year allowed me to hang out with his family on Sundays.

And then there’s Burle (lower-case bp). I’ve written about him before because of a giggle factor but I have to thank him for befriending my wife at a time when she needed it.

Finally, a shout-out to Jay Harris, the late former A-J editor. Anyone who claimed the newsroom as a second home during the late ‘70s and ‘80s will be more than happy, off the record, to share funny stories about the “corner office.” Frankly, Jay was a character. But he was OUR character. Until my later years at the A-J I tended to stay away from the maze of old newspapers that led to his desk, even if sometimes he was asleep under them.

But, to his credit, and mine, on slow news days we got to know each other during late-night discussions. He was quirky, and I mean very quirky, but somehow I was able to edit out the crap and understand the meat. He was a very smart man, even if he tended to nap under Pear Harbor headlines.

So, my “It’s A Wonderful Life,” point is that my life never should have been about me.

It always should have been about you and you and you, oh, and you in the back row.

You did all of the work. All I ever did was show up.

Freddy Stockdale is responsible for this content, which is not edited by the Lubbock Avalanche-Journal.